Shenlock Holmes II: A Game of Neverending Darkness
by jjhatter
Summary: Detective Shenlock Holmes has always been the smartest one in the room…until now. As war looms on the horizon, have he and his partner, Dr. Crane, finally met their match? Sequel to "Shenlock Holmes;" adaptation of "Sherlock Holmes II: Game of Shadows." A collaboration between J.J. Hatter & Shen's General. Please, Read & Review!
1. Chapter 1

"_**LADIES AND GENTLEMEN…WELCOME TO THE SHHHHOOOOWWWW!"**_

Hello, , and all its lovely readers! For those of you who eagerly awaited it…all five of you…here is the sequel to _Shenlock Holmes,_ J.J. Hatter and Shen's General's first collaboration!

Now, BEHOLD…_BORING THINGS!_

Rating: T (because that was basically the rating for the films)

Disclaimer: _Kung Fu Panda_ does not belong to either of us; rights go to Dreamworks and all those who worked on the project. _Sherlock Holmes _(2009 film) belongs to Guy Ritchie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (not to be confused with Conan O'Brien or Conan the Barbarian...sorry, it was too easy to resist), and anybody else I failed to mention. All OCs in these stories belong to me and Shen's General.

Summary (Yeah, we left it out in the first one. ): Ever since his career started, master detective Shenlock Holmes has always been the smartest birdbrain in the room…but, now, he and his loyal friend and partner, Dr. Crane, may have met their match, in the form of a criminal mastermind whose ambitions are as depraved as his mind…a mind that rivals even Holmes' own. In this game of chaos, riddles, and death, who will triumph at last? The World's Greatest Detective, or the World's Greatest Criminal Mind? Sequel to Shenlock Holmes; contains Shen/Viper and Crane/Mei Ling.

Note: Much of this chapter's opening is paraphrased from the classic Sherlock Holmes story The Final Problem. As with the movies, we own it not.

Now, with all that said, ON WITH THE PLAY!

_**Prologue: Discord Stirs…**_

_ May 9__th__._

_ It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write these last words, with which I shall ever record the talents and trials of my friend, Mr. Shenlock Holmes. With the publication of my many "scribbles," as I so fondly call them, I have endeavored to give this world an account of my many strange experiences in his company, from our first case together, to the bizarre resurrection of Lord Tai Lung…and, now, to the event that has created a void in my life which even the lapse of two years has done little to fill…_

_ But, perhaps, I am getting ahead of myself._

_ I shall begin at the beginning, and, when I come to the end, stop, as is proper…_

_ …Simply WRITING those words gives me a sense of pain…_

_ Anyway: it all began a few months after the death of Lord Tai Lung (the second one). Storm clouds brewed over every continent, it seemed: the results of a series of bombings throughout both Europe and Asia left many countries at each other's throats; even overseas, in the Americas, and down in the dark of Africa, the effects were felt. Some said they were brought on by corrupt governments, mongering for war. Others suggested terror groups and anarchists…_

_ But, as usual, Holmes had a different idea entirely…_

**Two years earlier…**

A dark figure waited casually by a street corner, picking at his sharp, craggy teeth with a bit of old bamboo. He heard a soft scrape and a hiss behind him, and moved out of the other animal's way…

And, as he did, he slyly slipped a small parcel over to them.

The viper smirked to herself as she slithered along, carrying the parcel in her coils.

"Bombing in Shanghai!" hollered a newspaper vendor behind her. "Read all about it! Anarchists suspected in Shanghai bombing!"

She shook her head slightly, muttering incessant "excuse me's," and "pardons" to passing animals as she went. She spotted a weary, faded blue peacock, with downy whiskers and a mandarin hat, seemingly molting, smoking a pipe on the corner. With a benevolent smile, she flicked a coin in his direction (where she kept it, no one would have guessed), and then went on without giving a second thought.

The viper slithered through the old market town, past the rice and bean stands, humming quietly to herself. As she was passing a baker's stand, she heard a sharp whistle somewhere behind her. She turned…and saw nothing.

"Ahem!"

She jerked to the other side.

The faded blue bird was there.

His eyes were a familiar red.

"I can't believe you fell for that, Irene," he said. "Tell me, when did you start working for the mail service?"

The viper blinked, her eyes getting wide as the bird held up _her _package.

She turned, and noticed a small cake, roughly the same weight and shape of the package, wrapped in a paper bag, her coils wrapped around that.

She frowned for a moment…then her smirk returned.

"Very clever," she complimented. "Nice disguise, by the way…too bad your activities have landed you in the gutter."

"None of that right now," snapped the peacock, as he and the viper continued to move down the street. He gestured with his pipe at the package. "A curious gift…who is it for?"

"Why don't we discuss that…over dinner tonight?"

The peacock shrugged.

"I'm free for lunch."

"Well, I'm not. How about Savoi's, at 8:00?"

"Splendid."

"Wonderful!"

The viper paused, before asking coyly, "Will you be coming as yourself?"

"…Most likely…"

Then without warning, the peacock ducked behind a building, dragging the viper with him.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Three crows have been following you for the past half mile," the avian whispered back. "Their motives seem…unsavory…"

The viper bit her lip, and nodded.

"Follow me," she said, and slithered off at a faster pace.

The peacock did.

They left the market, and scuttled off to the harbor, dipping into an alley by the port…

Where a very large, shabby crows blocked their way.

They stopped short.

The crow smiled, and bowed slightly.

"Good day, Ms. Viper," it said, coolly.

The peacock glared…but, then, his eyes widened in surprise as the viper continued forward once more, till she was beside the crow. She smirked back at him.

"I should have told you, I guess," she chuckled. "They weren't FOLLOWING me…they were _SURPERVISING_ me. And, instead of three…"

A flutter from behind him told the bird that the other three crows had caught up.

"…There are four."

"Ah," was all the peacock could say.

The viper laughed, and with a snap of tail, exchanged the cake for the parcel again.

"Steady hands with that, Irene," the peacock warned.

"I don't have any!" the viper said brightly. "And, if I did, I don't think they'd be your biggest concern right now."

She turned to the Boss Crow.

"Be gentle with him," she ordered. "We have a dinner date tonight."

"Of course, Ms. Viper," the crow replied with another bow.

The viper's tongue darted out between her ruby lips as she looked back at Holmes and winked.

"Don't fill up on cake."

She slithered away.

The detective waved goodbye to her weakly…and then addressed the problem of the four crows.

"You!" he blurted out, pointing at Boss Crow. "I recall catching a glimpse of you before…you used to work for Lord Tai Lung, didn't you?'

"Yes, before you hung him on a chain."

The peacock shrugged.

"It was his own fault."

The Boss Crow smirked.

"It no longer matters; I serve another now."

"Ooh, let me guess: an _eccentric_ professor, am I right?"

The Boss Crow chuckled, but did not answer the question. He began to whistle the tune of an old lullaby, waving a wing for the detective to get on with it. The peacock nodded, and set to removing his whiskers and his hat, which he handed to two of the other crows – they were smaller than their boss – and the cake to the third, whistling as he did to the same tune…

He stopped abruptly.

"Huh. I forgot the rest-"

Boss Crow cut him off with a kick into a wall.

"Oof…oh, sure, NOW it's coming back…"

Boss Crow lunged forward. The detective flung some rice he had stowed away in his pockets, distracting him, then spun around and tripped him with a flash of his train. Another crow came up behind him and grabbed him around the chest. The peacock ducked as a third tried to peck at his eyes, and instead pecked at his fellow goon.

The peacock then broke free and kicked both aside…

Then groaned as something smacked into his skull. He fell, eyes closed, slumped against a wall…

To anyone who didn't really know him. He seemed unconscious.

But he heard everything…

"Kill him," snarled Boss Crow's voice.

"But…Ms. Viper-"

"Who do you work for? Ms. Viper? Or…_him?"_

"…Good point."

"Indeed. Get ready…"

The peacock smiled to himself, hearing shuffling, a scrape of metal, and dark laughter…

_What typical thugs you are._

_ Let's see…one has a knife; better get rid of him first. Disarm, and move on to steel talons…very crafty, but I've fared against worse. The Boss has a club; he'll go down next. Finally, remove the chain from the last, and intimidate a bit further to avoid tiring oneself out before dinner._

_ Elementary._

His eyes snapped open.

The first crow lunged forward with his knife, tossing the cake into the air as he did…

The peacock grabbed the knife wielder by the wing, twisted it, and threw the crow screaming into the second, both thwacking their heads against a wall. He flung a knife of his own at the sneering Boss Crow, knocking away the shabby creature's thick club, then kicked him square in the beak, leaving him out for the count. He snapped out his whip, the strike causing the fourth to drop his chain and yelp…

And then he caught the cake before it hit the ground.

The fourth crow gulped.

The peacock grinned, getting into a fighting stance.

"Again?"

The crow flew away.

"I thought not."

The detective ran to the edge of the pier – dropping the cake into the lap of a REAL beggar – then dove into the water…

Elsewhere, the viper entered an auction hall; a museum was being closed down, and an Egyptian sarcophagus was out to be bid on as she came in.

At the back row, seated along in the corner, was an old white goose. The viper slithered over into an empty seat beside him.

"Good morning, Dr. Ping," she said softly.

The goose smiled.

"I never wanted it all to go this far," he confessed quietly. "He has my family…"

"They have already been released," the viper said, and handed him the parcel. "And here's your payment."

"Thank you," nodded Dr. Ping, and handed her an envelope in return. "Please, take this to him. He is expecting it."

"I will," nodded the viper. "Anything else?"

"Tell him our friends think I delivered it to his sister."

"…His sister is dead."

"True, but _they_ don't know that."

The viper chuckled, and prepared to leave…

"Oh, no, please!" Dr. Ping exclaimed. "Please…I'm sorry, but, could you stay a moment? While I check the contents?"

The viper blinked at him, and slowly settled back, tongue flickering out and teasing the air.

"I was assured it would all be there, Dr. Ping…"

"Ah, yes, but assured by whom?" responded Ping, beginning to remove the paper from the parcel, revealing a small box with a sliding drawer. "Have you ever actually met him personally?"

The viper nodded grimly.

"Too often," she said flatly. "Now, I really must be-"

As the drawer was pulled by Ping, a large iron band – like that of a mousetrap – sprang out…and was stopped by a bidding sign, held by a handful of damp, white feathers.

"Don't touch or move anything," said the peacock with the red eyes – most of the blue dye now washed out of his feathers, revealing his true, albino white tone. "All things considered, it's probably not the payment you expected. I believe the contents are more…_explosive_ in nature."

Ping gaped.

"Ms. Viper…who is this?"

The viper only groaned in response, slapping her tail over her face.

"I hoped they'd slow you down better than that," she mumbled. "I've survived one explosion already, after all…"

"Well, hello to you, too, darling," chuckled the peacock, and gave her a peck of a kiss on the cheek…

And snatched away the envelope, tucking it into his robe lining.

Just then, a curious Ping decided to remove one of the paper slips over the drawer opening…

Revealing a series of clockworks, which immediately began ticking. This caught the snake and the peacock's attention.

"Oh, dear…I _did_ warn you."

"Wh-what is this?!" squeaked Ping.

"A time bomb," the other bird explained shortly. "You've activated a secondary charge on it; it's smaller than the other, but no less deadly."

He took a match from his pocket, and flung it at a nearby curtain.

"One thousand seven hundred!" barked the canine auctioneer. "One thousand eight hundred…!"

The peacock stood erect.

"One million!" he shouted. "Oh, and by the way: _**FIRE!"**_

As the curtain burst into flames, people scrambled and clamored, stampeding out of the hall. The viper immediately dropped from her chair to follow.

"I might need help, Irene."

"No, you handle this one," the viper replied. "And don't be late for dinner!"

"I am never late."

"Oh, yes…fashionably early," the viper smirked.

The peacock smiled, and the two leaned in and kissed…

And the detective stepped on her tail, pinning it before it could secretly slip the envelope out of his robes.

"Nice try," he chuckled. "I'll hold onto it, love…at least until after dinner."

The viper giggled.

"Have it your way," she said, and, as soon as the bird released her tail, she licked the tip of his beak quickly, and slithered away.

The peacock immediately snatched the bomb away from Dr. Ping, and darted up to the podium, where the sarcophagus was.

"Stay," he ordered over his shoulder. "Trust me: I'm a professional."

He heaved up the heavy lid of the golden coffin, and dropped the bomb inside the thick casket. He then closed the sarcophagus, and began to push it back into the vault in the auction house, which was still open.

"Consider yourself lucky, sir," he said, without looking at Dr. Ping. "I happen to do this for a living; I am a private detective, of some repute. Perhaps you've heard of me? My name is Shenlock-"

BANG!

The bomb blew open the sarcophagus lid again, spreading smoke and black powder everywhere. The peacock jumped, and coughed.

"…Holmes."

As he exited the vault, Shenlock Holmes was surprised to find that Dr. Ping had vanished.

He ran outside, eyes scanning to search for him, dodging people, panicked and curious about the explosion and the fire…

He bumped into a large gray wolf.

For a moment, their eyes connected…or, in the wolf's case, eye, as his left was swollen shut and horribly scarred.

Holmes blinked, then moved on, as the wolf grinned toothily, and went on his way, picking his teeth with a piece of bamboo.

Holmes ran on…then noticed a crowd of people on a street corner. He ran over…

And there, on the ground, lay Dr. Ping.

He was very much dead.

Holmes sighed, and crouched down. He tilted his head, noting something in the dead goose's neck, where no one else could likely tell…

He sneakily pulled it out, and walked away.

When he was sure it was safe to check it, he did.

It was a poison dart.

**Later that day…**

The viper slithered over to her reserved seat; the restaurant was filled with chatting patrons, gibber-gabbering about their lives or others in pointless tongues. A tea set was laid out for her already.

She grimaced, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Gio?" he called to a passing water. "A fresh set, please."

"Yes, Ms. Viper," the waiter said with a smile and a bow.

The viper nodded, smiling, as the waiter took the tea things and left, then sat, coiled patiently, letting out a deep breath.

"And how are you?" she inquired, addressing the figure seated directly behind her, without turning to him; he was the only silent person in the restaurant, quietly sipping tea.

"Tolerable," was the reply. "And allow me to congratulate you on your superb taste; this is some of the best tea I have ever tasted…and I have tasted a lot. Fine choice, really."

"Thank you."

The waiter returned with a new cup and saucer, along with a fresh pot of tea. The viper reluctantly refused the usual sugar and cream, deciding to take it black.

"So," purred the voice, "Did you get my little letter, snakey-dove?"

The viper paused, placing a small spoon with holes in it over the opening of her cup, like a filter.

"I'm afraid it was lost…"

A sigh.

"Lost. Dear, dear, how upsetting…"

"…In the chaos created by your…'present' to Dr. Ping."

"…Sorry, not much better."

The viper sighed this time, pouring her tea into the cup, through the sieve-like spoon.

"May I ask you something?"

She took the silence as a "yes."

"Ping's family…did you really release them?"

"Well, many say that death_ is_ a release, not a punishment."

The viper frowned.

"With all due respect," she said, changing the subject fast, "If you shared a bit more about your recent plans-"

"Oh! So, now you want to know my PLANS, eh? Is that why you wanted us to meet here, in your favorite restaurant? A nice, loud, crowded, public place? Were you afraid something might…happen to you?"

In the silence that followed, there was a soft giggle.

"Silly snakey…"

Somewhere in the building, a bell rang. The viper watched, astonished, as every single waiter, cook, patron…absolutely everybody in the restaurant stopped what they were doing, many leaving their food completely untouched, the chef leaving the soup still boiling, and calmly, quietly, left the restaurant.

The only ones left in the quiet were the viper, the figure behind her, and a lone wolf with one good eye, who was replacing a bell into his pocket.

The viper gulped.

Then, she heard a soft thudding and scratching, as the figured moved his chair around beside her. He sat, leaned forward slightly, hands holding his top hat before him, lethal red eyes not matching the affectionate smile on his black-furred face, pointed ears twitching slightly before he spoke.

"Irene," he began solemnly, "I don't blame you…I blame myself. This…relationship…it just isn't working. I've known about your feelings for him for some time. And this isn't the first time he's…interfered. The question is: what to do about it?"

He paused, letting out a soft chuckle.

"But…that's my problem now. The Final Problem. You won't have to worry about that. I'll go it alone."

Another pause…ended by a laugh that shook the table.

"HA HA HA! Ohh, madness…oh, I'd LOVE to see them beat that on the stage!" he cackled, then, abruptly, cleared his throat, and replaced his top hat on his head, sitting up a bit straighter. "Seriously, though, madam, I no longer require your help. You may go."

And without another word, he moved back around to his own table…and the soft sipping of tea was heard again.

The viper felt frozen for a moment.

"…Th-that's it?"

"Yep. That's it."

"…I'm…free, so to speak?"

"In more ways than one."

The viper glanced over at the wolf.

The wolf winked at her, and licked his teeth.

The viper grimaced, and, after removing her filter, drank her tea down in one gulp.

"Goodbye, professor," she said coldly.

And she slithered out of her chair, and headed for the door…

The professor never turned around…but he definitely heard the soft moan…the gasp..the harsh fit of coughing, punctuated by the smashing of dishes and the clatter of a fallen table…the faint flopping of scales on the floor…and then silence.

He laughed again, softer this time.

"Bye-bye."

_Irene Viper never showed up for dinner._


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Reminder to readers: due to the nature of this story, there is no true time period designated…so, as to how railroads are in this world, do not ask. Please.

**Chapter I: Return to Mianbao Street**

Dr. Crane's smile was bright as he went down the road, a rainbow-toned scarf around his slender neck, tipping his straw hat politely to passers-by. He smiled even wider as his target came in sight: the building at 221 Mianbao Street.

_Ah, memories…_

He knocked on the door…but nobody answered.

He tried again, with similar results.

Confused and curious, he chose to open the door himself.

"Mrs. Sooth?" he called as he entered the parlor, long neck snaking into the room before the rest of him. "Oh, Mrs. Sooth! Hello!"

No one replied.

Crane climbed the stairs, and knocked on the door of the flat at the top of the flight.

"Holmes?" he called out. "Are you in there?"

After waiting a few seconds, and receiving no response, he tried the knob, and opened the door…

He gaped, momentarily surprised, as he found the entrance barred by a virtual forest of potted plants and shrubs.

He sighed.

"Your weeds need cutting," he drawled into the jungle-like room.

_"Where am I?" _a familiar voice replied softly.

Dr. Crane rolled his eyes as he ducked and pushed past the leaves and branches.

"Look, I don't care where you are, as long as you're ready…"

_"I'm waiting, Crane…come and find me…"_

As Crane escaped the forest by the door, he spotted a familiar, white and red fan-shape in a chair by the window, turned away from him.

He snorted.

"I'm not going to play this game right now," he said firmly, moving over. "Remember, I need to catch the train-"

He turned the chair…revealing nothing but a very large, patterned fan.

"…Tomorrow."

THAP!

Crane flinched as something stung his shoulder. He pulled it out, revealing it to be a small dart.

He flung it away and sat down in his old chair…the cushions felt cool and soft on his feathers, he noted absently…

"Very funny," he called out.

_"Oh-oh! That's you dead, I'm afraid…"_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," muttered Crane, taking up a newspaper and opening it to read. "You win. I lose. Game over…"

THAP!

Another dart pierced the paper and stuck in Crane's hat.

_"You still don't see me."_

Crane smirked as he flipped the newspaper down, looking in the direction the dart came from.

There was a slightly mad-sounding giggle as the peacock revealed himself, tossing down the painted blowgun he'd used to fire the darts. He was wearing a strange robe, with sleeves that fell completely over his wings, and a mask made from a veil-like material that went down his neck to his chest, so that, until his train fanned out, he seemed to be just another part of the wallpaper in the flat, so that Crane hadn't seen him.

The detective's tail feathers snapped out in an arc, and he removed the mask, grinning at Crane mischievously.

"Hello there."

"…I'm not going anywhere with you dressed like that."

"Oh? Well, then, perhaps you'd rather have me dressed like you: military vest and your favorite straw hat, mismatched by that heinous looking handmade scarf. One of your fiancé's early endeavors, I trust?"

Crane chuckled.

"Oh, how I've missed you, Shenlock…"

"Have you really?" Holmes gasped in mock surprise. "Why, _I've _barely even noticed your absence! I've been up to my beak in research: adrenaline experiments, for example…and this," he added, holding his mask aloft. "My new urban camouflage! Not to mention that I am on the verge of a breakthrough in the greatest case in my entire career!"

"How interesting," Crane remarked dryly, then looked past Holmes, smile widening sincerely. "Aha! There you are, Mrs. Sooth!"

"Oh!" the old goat exclaimed, happily, leaning on her walking stick with one hoof and holding a tea tray in the other, as he had seen her do so often in the past. "Hello, doctor! So good to see you! And thank you for inviting me to your wedding!"

"Thank YOU for accepting."

"Ah…dear, dear, sweet _nanny,"_ Holmes said slowly, dropping his mask and moving forward, grabbing the goat lady by the shoulders and giving a quick peck of a kiss on the cheek. "Tell me, is she here yet?"

"No. Let go of me."

Holmes let out another unsettling giggle as he took the tea tray from her and scuttled to another part of the large flat, vanishing into the foliage.

"Touchy, touchy, nanny…" he murmered.

Mrs. Sooth waited for a moment, then moved to Dr. Crane. He smiled at her, one eyebrow raised, putting the paper away.

"'She'?"

"Irene Viper; they met a few days ago, and apparently were supposed to have dinner. She never showed up. He believes she's planning to come here…"

"Ah. So, how are you-OW!"

The old goat had grabbed Crane by the feathers, pulling him down forcefully to her level.

"Doctor, he's completely out of his mind!" she hissed. "He's been consuming nothing but tea and cocoa beans! He hasn't been to the ring in so long…the plants are here to keep the smell of tobacco at bay! He barely slept before, but in the past month he seems to never sleep at all; when he's not setting off his bloody gunpowder, I him laughing, screaming and talking to himself!"

"Um…you know, he talked to himself a lot before…"

"In multiple voices?"

"Ohh…not good."

"Doctor, what will I do?"

"Well…first of all, could you let go of my feathers?"

Mrs. Sooth did. Dr. Crane groaned, shaking himself.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Sooth," he reassured her. "I'll take care of it…I hope. Just leave him to me, all right?"

The landlady grinned laxly…

Then stiffened again as a voice hissed in her ear.

"Don't you have some medication to take?"

The old goat rolled her eyes.

"Thank you for reminding me…what would I do without you, Shenlock?"

And she left in a huff.

Holmes smirked, then turned back to Dr. Crane.

"Why are you here?"

Crane crossed his arms/wings, tilting his head slightly.

"I'm getting married tomorrow. Remember?"

"…AH, of course! Embrace me!" Holmes exclaimed, and suddenly rushed forward and hugged Crane. Hard.

Crane blinked, startled.

"Well…you seem…affectionate today…" he muttered awkwardly.

"Crane is getting married!" sang out Holmes, plucking the dart from Crane's hat, and gesturing for him to follow as he left the room.

Crane shook his head slightly, taking a deep breath, and did so, as the peacock led him downstairs and into the doctor's former flat.

"I'll pour us some drinks!" crowed Holmes. "Let the bachelor's party commence!"

"You know, you seem to have lost a few pounds…"

"Yes, and you've gained a few, I noticed. So what? Come along!"

Holmes opened the flat doors, and entered. Crane followed him, eyes widening at what he saw inside…

The old office was filled with long strands of blood red ribbons, tacked, pinned, or tied at various points, covering the room from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, corner to corner, some doubled up and over or under each other to clear a path to walk in. At the end of each ribbon, and sometimes in the centers of them, if they were set at a spot, were a multitude of pictures, notes, newspaper clippings, letters, and other such things. Aside from these things, the only other item in the entire flat was a single work desk

"…You've been busy in here."

"Like it? I call it my spider's web."

"What's it for?"

"Follow this strand," Holmes said, flicking one ribbon.

Crane placed a feathered finger on the ribbon, and slowly walked about the room, following its path carefully.

"What's it connected to?"

"Let's see," Crane answered, reading the clippings and noting the pictures the strand was attached to. "There's…'Indian Cotton Tycoon Retires'…'Opium Trader Dead: Police Believe Suicide'…'Bombings in Shanghai, Strasbourg, and Vienna: Connected?'…and 'American Steel Magnate Murdered; Police Baffled.'"

"Right. Riddle me this: what do they all have in common?"

Crane followed the strand to the end: on the far wall, he found a spot in the very center, where all of the ribbons seemed to be connected at once: a small painting, tacked through the subject's face by long knife.

"According to your 'web,' they all involve…Professor Maddohatta."

"Precisely."

"The mathematician, author, and tutor-slash-fencing instructor?"

"Learned much of his trade in Tokyo, where he became swordsmanship champion; also met and became friends with the head of the Emperor's guards."

"Do you have any evidence."

"Yes and no."

"Explain yourself."

Holmes beckoned Crane to another strand.

Crane followed it…and gaped at what he found it connected to: first, there was a picture of a goose from an obituary clipping, and then, tacked beside it, a headline reading "Bomb Averted by Master Detective."

"Dr. Ping's death?"

"Indeed. You spoke of him often…"

"Dr. Ping was my medical teacher; an expert surgeon, a doctor's pioneer…"

"I know that."

"Why's the headline connected here?"

"Because _I_ averted that bomb…and it was meant for him."

"Well…the obituary says he died of a heart attack…"

Holmes sighed, moving over to his desk, and pouring a clear liquid into a wine glass.

"My dear fellow, has all my instruction been for nothing? You still read the official statements? It's elementary, my dear Crane! The two of us – the professor and I – are playing a game; a dark game, with no clear end in sight…yet. It's cat and the canary…though I happen to be a peacock…"

"Judging from this room, I'd say it's more like spider and fly…"

"I'm not a bug. I'm a bird," grumbled Holmes, and took a drink from his glass.

"…Holmes…you're drinking formaldehyde…"

"Oh, yes, it's lovely. Want some?"

"…I'll just stick with wine."

Holmes shrugged, took another bottle, and poured Crane a glass of red vintage. As he handed his friend the glass, he tilted his head curiously.

"Crane…you look worried. Wedding stress?"

"No, actually."

"Then what?"

"Well…you seem rather-"

"Excited?"

"Manic."

"Meh, maybe a little."

"A lot. Verging on-"

"Ecstatic?"

"Psychotic. Maybe I should have brought a sedative…"

"Oh, forget it! I'd give my life to see this cat's defeat; he's the Napoleon of Crime, the Ghenghis Khan of Evil. He organizes all that is criminal, and most that is undetected, here in China, and quite likely more beyond. He MUST be stopped, before his symphony of chaos reaches a crescendo…"

"And you plan to do all that on this diet?" Crane inquired, gesturing at the formaldehyde bottle.

"…Yes. Why?"

Crane rolled his eyes.

Holmes frowned for a moment…then smiled again, holding up his cup.

"A toast, doctor: to your health!"

"And to yours," Crane replied, then mumbled as he took a sip, "Whatever's left of it…"


End file.
